#sorry for the novel

[undressrehearsal]

dare to fuck this up

summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing

a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance

part 1

You hadn't talked about it. 

You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 

You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 

The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 

That had been three weeks ago. 

For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 

At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 

Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 

And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 

Fine. 

If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 

Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 

You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 

“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.

So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 

“What the hell are you-” 

You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 

She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 

And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 

So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”

And the game began. 

Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 

Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”

She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 

“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 

And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 

You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 

Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 

You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 

It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 

Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 

Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 

You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 

Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 

You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 

The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 

“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 

There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 

You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 

You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 

You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 

You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 

“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 

You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 

Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 

Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 

When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 

This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 

When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 

When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 

Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 

“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 

But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 

So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 

So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 

“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 

You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 

“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 

You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 

You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 

You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 

Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 

Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 

You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 

You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.

Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 

And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 

For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 

And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 

But the clock kept ticking. 

After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”

“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 

Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 

Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 

And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 

A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 

Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 

You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 

But this was too important to ignore. 

“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 

Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 

Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 

And it was the lack of care that broke you. 

You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 

“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 

Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 

It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 

You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 

“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 

And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 

You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 

You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 

“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 

“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 

“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.

Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 

“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”

She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 

“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 

She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 

Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 

“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 

Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 

You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 

“What do we do now?” 

When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 

Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 

“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 

You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 

Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”

“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 

You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 

Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 

Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 

The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 

It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 

Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 

She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 

You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 

You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 

Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 

When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 

Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 

She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 

You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 

You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either. 

Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 

Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 

This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 

But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 

“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 

If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.

Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 

You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 

You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 

You loved revenge. 

But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 

So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.

When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 

Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 

When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 

The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 

Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 

Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 

You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 

The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 

Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 

You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 

A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 

You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 

You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 

You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 

She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 

“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 

You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 

Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 

Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 

“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 

“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 

“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 

You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 

“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 

Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 

“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 

She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 

You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 

Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 

It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 

When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 

Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 

Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 

Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 

Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 

You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 

[futuredadbod]

if you wanted to get fat for so long what made you keep going to the gym? wouldn’t an easy transition be to let your body go and then ease into gaining? :)

Hey anon, thank you for asking this question. I was a very serious athlete growing up and was D1 varsity in college (just saying that to show the seriousness, not bragging in any way). I couldn’t gain during that time at all because of my sport, but always fantasized about it. After I finished my athletic career, I coached while in grad school. This kept me involved in the sport I did and I was not confident enough to start gaining then because I was still around my fit/athletic friends and didn’t want to face any scrutiny/jokes for gaining weight. Looking back, I should’ve started then. I have good friends who wouldn’t have said anything, but your mind can be your own biggest enemy (I literally bought two packs of cookies to start eating before bed the week after I ended my athletic career and got scared and threw them away). When I graduated and moved home, I realized no one really cared about how I looked, and that I could actually get fat and enjoy it. I think my transition has been relatively easy-going so far, since I’ve gained ~35-40lbs in a year and a half. I wish I could gain faster to make up for lost time, but I’ve got plenty of time ahead of me. I’m much more confident now and I’m really excited to see what the future has in store. Hopefully it’s a much fatter and happy version of me!

[theghostbunnie]

do u have any headcannons on max's mom

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR QUESTIONS LIKE THESE OMGLMGOMGOMGSCHJHHHHHHHH OK SO

She practically ran away from home and came to the US at 17, Started going by the name Lacy. What her own parents/home life were like, what her name originally was, she was reluctant to speak of and by the time Max was born she just refuses to his face to tell him and gets defensive when asked.

She had a highschool romance but he(Devon) was socially a loser. Lacy so to speak kept it under wraps because of that, to not be seen with him. She genuinely loved him but he didn't work for how she wanted to be perceived. She got pregnant accidentally basically right out of HS and it wasn't what she wanted, atleast not now, but they talked it out and decided they could make it work, and it did for awhile, until it didn't. Where she lived, worked, and was with, was nothing like how she imagined she wanted it to be like.

She left them both and a few years later met a different man, (Arjun) they started dating. (This isn't all going to be about her love life I swear she's got more to her then that I'm just getting backstory out of the way)

Lacy has this problem where she HAS to be needed. Important to people. Revered by a community and a home that's dependent on her to function. Arjun subtly starts picking up she might not be?? A good person?? but HE has this problem where he hates himself, but doesn't want to be ALONE with himself. He has a history of dragging other people down, but this time, he's actually considering just leaving.

Lacy is smart enough to figure that out and [TW, breach of intimate consent] messes with protection to intentionally baby trap him.

After Max is born she wants to name him Maxwell but Arjun wants to name him Makali. Alot of conflict between them is Lacy's internalized racism and she just lets him put that name on the birth certificate to shut him up, and keeps calling him Maxwell.

After Max starts going to camp he decides he's not going to use either and just go by Max.

Lacy works an office job she pours alot of her effort into and has worked herself up to a sales manager position or something similar. Affording them a middle class home rental near/practically In the city era. (Decent size, neighbor's place built in joint. V Small backyard.) She's constantly aiming higher and loves to enjoy upper class luxuries wherever she can. In home decor, fashions, ect. Climbing both the social and finical ladder with almost this desperation but only slow progress.

She's this perfectionist, their small yard has a tiny Rose bush she trims every single thorn off of herself because she loves the look of them but hates getting pricked even if the gloves don't make it hurt. (Probably a metaphor in there somewhere. You decide)

She's incredibly talented in origami and piano, but dropped origami entirely after too many crumbled up or ripped papers.

She put Max through tapdancing, violin, and taught him piano herself. He's not the best in any group and never gets spotlight during any recitals.

Her abuse towards Max- it's /rarely/ ever physical. It's way more mental, and verbal. She convinced him from a very early age he needs her to live. She can leave him but he can't leave her he should be thankful she hasn't. He needs to work harder to not waste how far she's gotten already. He needs to outwardly show people the best version of himself he can even if it's a lie. Ect ect ect. I'll go more in depth on all that if asked.

His father is more complicit in just letting this all happen, it's less than what he went through as a kid and believes sometimes you just get stuck with the short end of the stick. They're still in this codependent relationship. She needs someone reliant on her, despite resenting him for how much so he is. He somewhat hates her as a person now sometimes, but can't stand the thought of not having her company to keep him from being lonely. Arjun neglects Max and enables his mother's abuse by not doing anything, he himself is not a victim of it so he's fully well in a position to help, he just doesn't to not rock the boat. They fight mutually. They're both bad to and for each other.

When Max was younger she gave him Mr HoneyNuts. Despite wanting a girl originally, it didn't matter after he was born, she was incredibly affectionate towards Max a few times he can recall while being that young.

He holds onto Mr.HoneyNuts with the belief subconsciously she still holds that affection towards him. She's just too busy or too stressed to show it as often now.

Lacy with her perfectionist nature and intense goals always in mind, she's this master schemer, always knowing the exact words to say What to do. Yet this explosive anger she actually manages to hide around others. It's where Max gets it from, but Max's version is rough around the edges.

In some AUs she's prepared to mold him for as many years as it takes, in others, she's ready to give up. He's been making scenes, uncooperative, failing academically, not trying at anything.

When her life is heading isn't where she imagined it to be.

She'll leave both of them.

She's smart, can't leave any loose ends to ruin any reputation she tries to build somewhere else, so if it need be she could get rid of Max with no way of him ever finding her.

[theformerbastard]

I gotta rant about work for a minute (even tho I should just fuckin' let it go).

Last week, my dispatcher gave me a 2,000+ mile run. I told her I wouldn't be done with the one I was on until Friday and she said she'd get me a rental car so I could go pick it up after. Well she left early, didn't say a word to me about it, and didn't set up my rental. I finally got ahold of another dispatcher, got the rental, picked up the truck Friday evening. I wasn't about to start drivin' to California at 6pm so I called it a day and got on the road Saturday mornin'. When she sent me that fuckin' text I'd gone about 1,400 miles. Now maybe I could have covered a little more ground but I'd hardly call 1,400 (now 1,600) miles in 4 days "taking my time."

I didn't respond 'cause it's not worth gettin' an attitude over but I've been thinkin' about it all afternoon and I don't like her goddamn tone.

[ratguy-nico]

Okey WTF that was... AMAZING. Its definitely one of the best episodes of the season maybe just behind The Amazing Rudy episode.

Like really, this season been characterize for new explorations in storyboard and storytelling in general and this is like the culmination of all that.

The fatc that I knew it was fake or a movie, but still cried with Bob and Linda's sacrifice tells how great this was.

Louise keeps getting better and better as character, the crew is giving their all in her writing.

You know many quotes of this episode are going straight up on my list of absolute favorites.

And I don't know if this is a consensus around the fandom but for a long time I wasn't sure the path Louise was gonna follow. I have clear visions of the other Belchers kids. Gene as a famous musician in any loud and messy way she wants, Tina running a horses farm, that can also have other animals, but Louise was a totally mistery.

A blank canvas an even if I like that with this episode, with their Hawk and Chick obsession, the puppet dragon, THE AMELIA EPISODE, im pretty sure she's gonna take the making movies path, maybe director, maybe effects, propts, but something around that. And for some reason it make me really happy.

~Just some after thoughts~

-The dinamic duo Gen-Tina carry so much of this episode for me. Just love them, working together sharing a braincell.

-I almost doubt if it was fake, cause everyone just acted their asses off for this proyect. And they didn't even may it to the credits XD.

-GIVE RUDY AN OSCAR!

-The special effects giving "movie made by the audiovisual club's" vibes , make me so happy without any good reason.

-The breaking in a song Louise just catch me off guard.

-Why Jimmy Jr did this? Did they buy him by telling him he will be a a main character, the star, that he will get famous or was he just there getting his chance to dance in front of a camera. Like give me this guys motivation. I get everyone else but not JJu.

-I have to remark the storyboard work, it was out of this word. Its so hard for animated series to do something brave and bold with the layouts and cameras. I just love to see it ❤️

-AND THE DRAMATIC ZOOMS MADE A DRAMATIC CAMEO (dont add any capture cause late and tired)

[waterwindow]

Hello!

Been a big fan of both the art and jump compilations for a bit now. I’m currently grinding out a new season in 6s Open, for which I’ve been really keen on finally giving Roamer a try. Which, this is the part where the question comes in, because as the Roaming Solly it’s super important to be able to jump well.

Mechanically I feel pretty solid on walljumps, syncs, most manner of strafing and the combination of the likes. It’s the skips and pogo that make me want to uninstall though. I’m always super inconsistent. So I was wondering if you knew any good/fun maps to practice those. I’ve mostly done medium/hard levels on Jump Academy.

You like my compilations?? thank youuu🥺👉👈

And Eey! Good luck with the season :]

So, hmmm, based on what you've told me you're somewhere in the high t4 range (there is one t5 jump in Hard Walls, but outside of that JA2 is high t4 so I'll keep that in mind) Unfortunately a lot of pogo for t4-and-beyond focuses a lot on wallpogo. I.E your ups n downs and corners and all that good stuff. Which probably isn't really what you're looking for because it's not super applicable for the art of Murder.

Skips on the other hand are insanely annoying even for people who primarily jump because every skip's set-up is slightly different (especially leading into whatever you're planning to use the gained momentum for) Because of this I can't really pin something down right off the top of my head as THE SKIP MAP™. It's a little bit less of a core mechanic and more of a popular set-up gimmick.

K so after some long consideration and thought and talking to my friends we've got some maps for your consideration

jump_competitive, jump_damer, jump_destination_v2, and jump_glow are all t4 and they're visually interesting and have skips/ground pogo. Damer is even full of memes :D and Competitive is based all on real jumps you can do in-game (and there's a fun little hat-finding easter-egg hunt to unlock the bonuses)

A lot of our first thoughts definitely skewed more towards t5 so I'll leave some cursed suggestions here as well: Jump_areae is BRUTAL but it is primarily ground-pogo and its pretty to look at. jump_minecraftia is 90 goddamn jumps but you will find just about everything there including a lions share of skips and pogo. And If me personally were to crown a map as The Cursed Skip Map like it was the Skip Prom Queen, I would have to choose none other than jump_finite_v2.

All these maps are great, btw, in their own right and I'm sure there's loads more (so if anyone has any suggestions feel free to leave a comment). But my real and honest advice would be to practice setting up skips on the maps that you play on. Skip-setups are so precise that its very hard to find 2 skips that are exactly alike. So for your purposes I would definitely find good places you could conceivably see yourself skipping from a lot and have those memorized so in the heat of the moment you always know just what to do :]

[aurosoul]

In regards to the tech sphere devolving into absurdity, I'm pretty sure just about everything has been spiraling into bizarro world since 2012. Just everything in general has been getting weird.

oh man you are 100% correct. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the concept of the ‘technological singularity’, but it’s something that’s fascinated me for a long time and it always feels like a looming possibility.

the gist of it is that human technological progress has (so far) been exponential, and that if we stay on this track.... the acceleration will eventually launch us into a world beyond imagination or recognition. (and that launch point will be The Singularity)

and, man..... as someone who was born in the 90’s, the last 20 years have been a crazy ride. I saw the advent of the internet, of cell phones, of pocket-sized networked computers (smartphones), of robotic prosthetics, the massive shift towards digital communication, digital art, digital media, and NOW....

the advent of virtual reality. of real haptic suits and gloves. of augmented reality glasses, of AI indistinguishable from a human being, of AI-generated EVERYTHING via neural networks, and, on top of all of that, the advent of quantum computing which allows us to harness quantum mechanics to do all of this even faster.

and yet... ALL of this is useless to us unless we can use it to bring people together to bring down the colonial oligarchy dead set on keeping us trapped in the societal dark ages. financial inequality, racism, ableism, sexism, climate change, etc etc etc aren’t talked about enough in tech spaces.

and what’s more: tech is being used to make our lives actively worse!! spyware, propaganda, targeted advertisements, military robotics, industrialization, all that fucked up shit!!

technology won’t save us unless people use it for humanitarian purposes. green energy! universal basic income paired with automation! degrowth of capitalist systems! indigenous-guided city planning and land management! and so many other ideas from people more knowledgeable than me.

I think the ‘bizzaro world’ vibes come from this huge dissonance we’re all feeling from being more connected and technologically advanced than ever before in the entirety of human history - while also still having to fight for basic survival in a hyper-divided political landscape

it’s a strange time to be alive. I have no idea how any of this will shake out - but no matter what I’m determined to be on the side of good.

[joelsgreys]

omg i cant fucking wait for your fic talk tonight!!!! joel miller x a latina ofc???? i used to pray for times like this

Ah I’m happy you’re excited non! ❤️

I’m kinda really excited about introducing Camila, and writing her and Joel’s story. I’ve always been so afraid to step out of the box and write an OC (I enjoy reading them myself) but I was like FUCK IT let’s do it

what’s really special about her is that she’s going to have a really touching background story as far as her parents, where they came from etc, and idk I hope people will love her and her story as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥹

[evanisalittlelost]

It's been one of those days.

I kinda had an episode last night, and I'm still recovering from it. Sometimes, I feel like I can't function by myself. Which is part of the reason I moved back in with Dad. Well, that and when he was gone, I was an absolute mess. I did not leave the shop for weeks after I met Nero for the first time. Anyway, I'm still... broken.

This time of year absolutely sucks for me. I know I mentioned that in another post, but I have to talk about these things in bits and pieces. It's not easy to explain what I went through as a child. The bullying was only a small part of my problems. My grandparents (Mom's parents) did not really love me. They tolerated me at best. My grandmother was worse than my grandfather. To this day, I still refer to them as 'the Mafia' because, at one point, they came to try and get me back.

Yeah... you can just imagine the field day my Dad had with them. Especially when he had Morrison go through all the trouble of forging my birth certificate and identification records to keep me out of their hands. The Mafia had the absolute nerve to come to Devil May Cry and slap a warrant for Dad's arrest on his desk. WITH police in tow.

Oh yeah. He was pissed.

This was about a year after the realized I was still alive. They told everyone that I had dragged off by an animal out in the forest, which is why they never recovered my 'body' and were so heartbroken about it. Then they had people watching my Dad the whole time.

Apparently, I was going to inherit their money or something like that. I don't care to know the full details. Not important anyway. But it's the abuse that I went through growing up in that mansion that I can't get over. I wasn't physically abused, I was emotionally abused and treated as Mom's pet.

I'll make it clear that Mom did not treat me like that at all. She was the only person who really loved me, but they tried to keep us separated as much as possible. The Mafia is exactly what they sound like.

I almost drowned under their watch and they didn't do shit about it.

I'm getting angry just thinking about it. The worst part is up until I turned 18, they still got their lawyer to send a letter to my Dad every year about how they could pursue him for legal charges. He pinned the letters up on the wall and used them to play a really fun game of darts. We don't get letters anymore, but I did hear that the Mafia has lost quite a bit of money in a bad investment.

Karma is a bitch.

Still, this is just one of the many problems I'm dealing with emotionally. The good thing is that I am in the right place with the right people. I have a family that really loves me. They aren't all blood relation, but they are my family.

Okay, I've made myself cry. I'm gonna stop here before I have another episode and this has gone on entirely to long.

Thanks for reading 😊

I'm gonna go make some hot chocolate and watch anime with Dad now.

[ambrossart]

Hi, hope you're doing well 🌹Maybe you already explained it but I was wondering why Eddie came up to the reader in the first place. Was it really for the ticket or he couldn't stop himself after seeing her? After all those years of restraining himself would he really give up just for tickets?

Also, his "crush" on Chrissy was an excuse to stare at her direction knowing the two of them are always together?

I'm in the middle of a re-read and all those little amazing details you wrote are getting to my head. Lol

I really enjoyed your writing, skills like that are sure an amazing talent and it shows how much passion you put into every single line. It feels natural and the emotions are so real I felt like I was living in the story.

(I'm doing great, thank you 😊)

Maybe it's just the romantic in me, but I've always thought Eddie kind of couldn't help himself when he approached her that night. I think by that point, after almost six years of restraining himself, Eddie had gotten a pretty good handle on his feelings and smothered them down to a tiny, barely-there flame.

Problem is, every time the reader catches his eye that flame starts to grow again, so Eddie's constantly having to snuff it out. That's why being around her is so frustrating and exhausting for him. It's practically torture.

…yet he can't help but stare at her.

And that's how I've always viewed that scene. Eddie definitely doesn't want to approach her, but there she is, looking beautiful in her prom dress, acting absolutely adorable as she does her "invisible date" joke, and his body just starts to move on its own. But once he's actually in front of her, he kind of snaps out of it, remembers why he's really there, and shifts his focus back to the ticket.

I think this passage in part 8 sums it up:

“God, why’d you have to be here tonight? Y’know, I came in with a very clear plan: get in, get the girl—or, y’know, don’t get the girl—and then get the hell outta here! I see you and… shit, all of a sudden I’m back in middle school, man. I’m weird and awkward. Face full of acne. Actually, I don’t remember if acne was a huge problem for me, but it probably was. And now I got all these complicated feelings and, fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

And this relates to your second question as well. Eddie's crush on Chrissy is real, and it actually predates his crush on the reader.

In my head, that crush began when Chrissy wished him good luck at the middle school talent show. She's the first girl to show him genuine kindness (plus she's cute as hell), so that would definitely grab his attention.

Then, that very same night, the reader comes along—his heckler, the girl who laughed during his first live performance—and she’s always getting in the way. Every time Eddie’s trying to look at Chrissy, she’s always there, completely ruining his perfect fantasy.

This carries on into high school. Six years later, the reader is still getting in the way. Of course, by now it's for a completely different reason. It's because the feelings Eddie developed for her over the summer are way stronger than the superficial ones he has for Chrissy. Eddie doesn’t want these feelings, but he can’t completely get rid of them either.

This continues until the two of them are stuck in the bathroom together. Here, Eddie finally lowers his guard and stops trying to resist his feelings.

tldr; Eddie definitely couldn't help himself when he approached the reader at prom. Nevertheless, his crush on Chrissy was real and he did go to prom for her. But the reader got in the way of Eddie's plan. When he saw her that night, he couldn't help but be drawn to her because his lingering feelings were way too strong to resist ♥️♥️♥️

[cyazurai]

Had a dream last night about these super powered people who had to practice their abilities in secret. (I think it must have been a world like The Incredibles where super heroes were illegal?) But, it took place in a secret bunker thing that had an area that was magicked to look like a forest.

These people had to practice their abilities, and one of the group skipped the regular practice, so they ended up having a super powered tag/hide-and-seek game with 7 against 1, all trying to beat him.

He kept winning because he had some power that helped him (my brain didn't actually show me what his power was), but then they brought out this girl that was dressed like she was an assassin or something, with a hood partly covering her face and everything. The guy starts FREAKING OUT, and he tries to run away, forgetting his power altogether, and he gets trapped in by the other people as the girl approaches him.

He starts screaming at her "don't take a picture of my face! Don't take a picture of my face!" And tries to hide his face. Well, one of the people grabs his arms and takes them away from his face, and the assassin girl reaches around his face, points her palm directly at it, and a flash happens, before a polaroid picture of the guy's face appears out of nowhere. As soon as the polaroid appears, the guy goes limp.

Turns out, this girl has a power where she has the ability to take pictures with her left hand, and if she takes a close up picture of someone's face it will trap their soul temporarily in a polaroid picture.

If you hold up the picture to the person's face so the two faces are looking at each other, the picture will vanish and the person will wake up.

But if you rip up the picture, the person dies.

And that's where I woke up and am now thinking "hey that's an interesting concept for a super power."

[detectivelokis]

💖 + fc5, uc, mass effect and arcane!

Uncharted - It’s definitely Rafe. Though, I feel like I see him a bit differently because I’ve always struggled with his boss fight so to me, he’s incredibly competent. I also personally think he deserved the gold just as much as the Drakes did! He put in 15 years of work! They just wanted it because their mom did. Anyway, he’s the perfect “villain” (he’s more antagonistic than villainous, but that’s neither here nor there) because his blind ambition and his reactions to things are so realistic.

Arcane - It’s been a minute since I’ve thought of Arcane, but I really loved Viktor and Mel. Maybe Mel even more so? She just felt so human and I was always rooting for her. Anyways, I have to pick her because we stan beautiful women first and foremost.

FC5 answered here

Mass Effect answered here

[catwaifuwu]

weirder asks:

2.lighter or matches? 21.something you’ve kept since childhood? 44.you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Lighter! I carry around a lighter my partner gave me uwu I think matches deplete too quickly (also I have pyro friends and I don't want open fire sources lying around easily accessible and fun to play with). Anyways I only use them to light candles or incense since I don't smoke.

Ooh I have a lot actually (I have abandonment issues). A lot of my clothing since I stopped really growing around 14. Many plushies. I think the oldest thing I have is either a sheepskin I sleep on (no idea. Been there as long as I remember) or a little flat teddy from Australia (we were there when I was 2)

Oh damn. I uh.. dont really have grudges or anything so I don't have anyone I'd have a personal reason to kill. Probably a really generic answer (x billionaire) or someone my friends or partners want dead. I'd still want to kill them tho, if I'm getting a free pass and all...

[jack-homo]

i wanna hear ur top 3 singles now 🙏 also fave album recently?

Oh ok so I’ve been thinking about this all day and decided I’m not going to overthink it. I only rate singles for side A bc I like to think about just the individual hit, so I kept to that approach. Also was debating wether to go for total quality vs. personal appreciation and decided to just go for the latter.

As by Stevie wonder. Because it’s outstandingly catchy while delivering a message that is wholesome and beautiful. In terms of quality I think this is my number one. It’s one of a few song that will give me goosebumps consistently, the bridge and the transition fill me with such joy and hope it’s overwhelming.

It’s my life by talk talk is a prime contender for my favorite song ever so it must make the list. Hollis’ vocals are so haunting and the bass line is mad thick

Band on the run by sir paul. Absolute classic. I’m excited every time I hear the song build and build until it climaxes. Paul always executed this so well.

As far as album goes, I’m really into Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror. Being back in school has me listening to lots of ambient music and this album has become my go too. It’s so warm and comforting and it and ambient 1 help me thru the worst of times. Particularly hooked on the title track and an arc is doves <3

[electric-eccentricity]

I guess the important issue is why you think you wasted years of your life. Media is terrible about saying you should have x things done by this age. It's all bullshit. Do what you want. Accomplish what you can.

I know you’re right, anon. Like rationally I do. But rationality isn’t what keeps me awake and crying at night, y’know?

The truth is, I’ve amassed very little in terms of the impact I have on other people. I know you can really only judge that against other people, but just in terms of math, it feels like I’m so far down the low end. Like, every time I go to a wedding, I can’t help but thinking “I couldn’t even fill a fucking row of seats.” It seems like most people can even like accidentally acquire acquaintances, but there’s something about me that just doesn’t draw people. It never has. There are people that care about me, and quality is more important than quantity, but when I don’t see or hear from those people a lot, the day to day business of life becomes a lot harder.

When I get really sad about the state of my life…we’ll, there’s not a ton to be happy about, but the lack of people, connection, intimacy (which had just led to a serious lack of knowledge of how to talk to people) is an obvious culprit. Again, I know I’m drawing from comparisons, but it seems like a lot of people draw meaningfulness in this terrible life from their relationships with other people. “We stay alive for each other.” “No man is a failure who has friends.” It seems like that seals it for a lot of people, and maybe even if I was sure of that I wouldn’t feel differently, but it would still be nice to know.

Maybe there’s no way to separate other people from how I feel about myself, but having a big heart (gross) with a lot of love to give and not having anyone to give it to just feels shitty. Like, no one has ever held my hand. Yes, because most other people have and we’re living on that arbitrary timeline, but because it’s something I want from deep within. It sucked when I was 16, and it sucks now.

[agena87]

C'est le jour de "Parle ta langue" sur Tumblr, apparemment, donc, voilà, c'est moi parlant en français. Je suis actuellement en train de mettre toutes mes captures d'écran de ma "legacy" ("legacy" se traduit par "héritage", mais c'est bizarre quand on essaie de l'utiliser dans le contexte) dans ma file d'attente. J'ai d'autres captures d'écran à retoucher/recadrer, alors c'est probablement ce que je ferais par la suite (puis je les ajouterai à ma file d'attente). Après, je pense soit jouer avec Seamus, Karl et Dene un petit peu, soit refaire quelques personnages (ceux déjà créés par EA - Wolfie, Cassie, les Ito, Morgan, Malcolm - et d'autres personnages originaux qui devraient apparaître à un moment ou un autre dans ma "legacy"). Ou bien faire une maison pour Dax, Reinhold et Scott.On verra bien ce que je décide. Aussi, ça fait trois jours que je n'ai pas fait de "render" et j'ai une idée de style pour la famille Mézières (à savoir quelque chose de post-apocalyptique qui serait assez cool à mettre en scène - si je trouve les poses que je veux).

Désolé.e, je peux être très bavard.e. Promis, la prochaine fois que je veux écrire un roman, je le fais en anglais, histoire que vous n'ayez pas à utiliser un traducteur pour comprendre mon blabla inutile ^^'